


The Salmon Loki And The Bigger Fish

by aenor_llelo



Series: For A Diamond Is A Marveled Thing [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Steven Universe (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Battle of New York (Marvel), Child Soldiers, Ever Think About That Tumblr Post That Pointed Out That Loki Is Around 16/17 In Aesir Years? I Do, Gems Are Fae Eldritch Vibe And I Will Not Allow You To Forget This Ever, Gemsong, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, It's Loki. Loki Is The Child Soldier, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki Is Neither As Powerful Or As In Charge As He Thinks He Is, Nonbinary Steven Universe, Smart Hulk (Marvel), Steve Rogers' Irish Catholic Boy Fears, Steven Universe is a Diamond, Thanos' Forces Commit What We Call In The Industry A Critical Research Failure, The "Ticking Time Bomb" Scene, The Gem Empire Is A Sleeping Giant And It Has Been Woken, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Why Yes I CAN Write Prose About The Scent Of Burning Human Flesh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 8,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aenor_llelo/pseuds/aenor_llelo
Summary: Loki prepares to lead his conquest of Earth. Unfortunately, Earth is already occupied, and Gems are not willing to negotiate a timeshare.orThe Chitauri encounter the Gem Empire rather much the same way a sentence encounters a full stop.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe, Jasper & Connie Maheswaran & Steven Universe, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Series: For A Diamond Is A Marveled Thing [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604959
Comments: 319
Kudos: 807





	1. We Don't Always Get What We Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So imagine Agent Romanov's surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is part of a series. Please read the previous parts for full understanding.
> 
> (No seriously, we got Lore, half of this might not make sense if you haven't read the series)

* * *

Infiltrating Little Homeworld isn't that much of an infiltration.

Oh, it had felt like it, at first. But it was very clear, very fast, that she was here not because the Gems didn't notice her, but that they simply just didn't care. Like she was beneath their notice.

It's equal parts insulting and terrifying.

"I'm looking for a human named Robert Bruce Banner?"

The gangly cyclops Gem at the desk tilts her head quizzically. "There is no such human in our records. We do, however, have a Robert _Oliver_ Banner who works as a human doctor and a professor for Little Homeschool." It does not escape Natasha's notice that the Gem does not necessarily refer to Banner as human.

Really? Barely even bothering to change his name? It's like he's _trying_ to be found.

_Well, he must have done **something** right, if no one's found him for this long._

"Do you know where I can find him?"

The Gem puts a finger to her mouth, with a drawn hum like trembling like lyres. "He should be finishing up one of his classes right now."

=<>=

SHIELD kept the most up-to-date files on all persons of interest.

But when someone drops off the map for well near two years, things start to get a little... fucky.

A person can change a lot in two years. Doesn't she know it.

But seeing the Hulk of Harlem walk around in tweed and cardigans and an **I <3 LH **shirt is a bit...

...she wants to say _unsettling_ , but even that doesn't quite cover it.

"So what does Fury want _me_ to do," Banner mumbles past his bacon (the bacon he is _eating with chopsticks_ , mind you), "swallow it?"

"He wants you find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for _us_ to trace. There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do."

He scoffs sharply, and it's a jarring sound, coming out of someone so large. "Sure, lady. Like Fury hasn't been after us since before we broke Harlem."

"There's more pressing concerns at the moment. We're facing a potential global catastrophe."

"Oh, those," he laughs, "those I actively try to _avoid_."

"Talk to Fury," she talks past his dismissal. "He needs you on this-"

" _He needs me in a cage._ "

She reaches a gentle hand towards him. "No one's going to put you in a-"

" **STOP LYING TO US!** "

The loud echo of his hand on the table is almost enough to mask the click of the gun she points across at him. 

He stills. For a moment he just breathes, and it sounds more like a growl than anything. He leans back.

"I'm sorry," he half mumbles. "That was mean." He takes off his glasses (and isn't that another sight, a Hulk with glasses) and pinches at his nose, shoulders hunched down as he seems to shrink in on himself. It's like looking at a different person entirely. "Shouldn't have done that. Lost my temper."

The gun doesn't lower.

Banner, the Hulk, what difference does it matter now- raises his large hands (large enough to flatten her skull right on the table) and backs away as if the dinky little pistol aimed between his eyes can actually hurt him. It's a nice thought, but no.

"Why don't we do this the easy way," he politely suggests. "Where you don't use that, and nobody makes a mess." _Where you don't push me, and I don't push you right into the nearest wall._

And against all reason, against all _instinct,_ the gun finally lowers.

Whatever collective breath the room never realized it was holding slowly decides to let go.

"Jesus," he mutters, hand clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he wasn't the most active, volatile threat of the entire exchange. " _That_ was dramatic. Can we not have any repeats of that when you kidnap me to the _Where's Waldo_ of Tesseracts?"

"You're coming, then?"

"Eh. I don't trust any of you guys worth a damn. But what are you gonna do, kill me? We both know that's not gonna work. Chalk it up to good ol' fashioned Earthling patriotism." He stuffs the last of his bacon in his mouth, clacking his chopsticks vaguely in her direction. "And you better be paying me in some decent fucking food, at least."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prof oliver: :) what are you gonna do with that gun? gonna shoot me? better make it count. better make it hurt. better kill me in one shot :)
> 
> just realized this series has like 15 parts now holy fuck kings


	2. I Mistook The Sensation For Love And Died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take this feeling, bury it deep and dark, and pretend it was only the love of your country.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accessibility warning for vision or reading impaired: this chapter contains passages with fragmented and exotic formatting. These are deliberate stylistic choices and are not intended to be visually/verbally coherent.

* * *

WAR!

WITH THE FORCES OF DARKNESS PRESSING IN, FROM THE EAST, FROM THE WEST, AMERICA HEEDS THE CALL TO FIGHT- FOR FREEDOM!

AND AT THE FRONT OF THE FIGHT, SHOULDER TO SHOULDER WITH OUR BATTLING BOYS IS - **CAPTAIN AMERICA-**! A PRODUCT OF OLD-FASHIONED VALUES AND EXCITING NEW SCIENCE! **-CAPTAIN AMERICA-** IS THE NAME EVERY NAZI FEARS.

UNCLE ADOLF'S SECRET NEW WEAPONS? NO MATCH FOR OUR MAN!

WHEN TOUGH TIMES TURN TOUGHER, WHEN HOPE'S ON THE ROPES- HERE'S THE MAN TO KNOCK THE AXIS ON THEIR BACKS-ES!

HE'S OUT THERE, FIGHTING FOR THE LAND THAT WE LOVE, AND HE WON'T S̶̡̨͓̩̼̥͕̫̬̜̬̫̭̀͝T̴̞͙̬͓̹̦͖̪̖̾̈́͊̿̎̂̀̂̓͊͑̈́͌̚̚͜ͅƠ̵̧̙̼͎͍̣̗̦̗̗͌̎͆͐͜͜͠P̸̞̮̭͍̲̞̖̩͛̂͑̋̾̉̚͝ ̶̨͈̼̗̜̘̹̃͐̆̃̈̃͠͝ ̵̳̽͂̊̓͆̾͊̔̍͊͊̄̏̅͝ ̴̙̯̱͇̮̮̪͓̘̦̝̲̯̒̈͝ ̴̧̰̹͎̼͓͔͎̙̮̹̪̘̩̻̊͐̈̌̚ ̷̡̩͕̞̟͔͖͍̫̒̄͐̃̌̌̏͂̊̓̑́̕ ̴̧̹͕̫̦͍̩͇̮̪̩̇͂ ̵̗̻̯͌̑̆̎̐̓͝ ̷̡̲̖̰̠̻̄̌̒ ̸̘͎̥̺͍̝͔̝͍͉̩͔͈̩̺͂̾͊͐̕ ̴͖̣͈̯̗̲̫͙̱͕̫͔́̇̿̉̊͆̄̀̎͝͝ ̸̛͔̠̘̥̖͈͇͊̄̎̽̄͋̚ ̵̧̧̛̭̹͚̣̼̖͙̋̅͗̃̈́͒̿̈ ̸̡̛̼͚̖̣͙̹͐̽͒̏̈́͂̈́̅̐̅ͅ ̸͉̟̞͇̟̘̱̖̯̗̂̊̒̐̿̾̈́͂͛̎̏̀̇ ̵̲̹̩̤͎̭̞̬͕̲̣͍̟̋̋̕ ̶̡̦̭̳͉̟̝̝̦͖̳͎͋̅̈́͑̈́͜ ̶̨͓͎̰̙̾̈́̓͋͋̋͊̀͘

_Ş̸͒͝T̵̞̲̤̂̐̐͋̇̾̕͝O̴̧̖͈͔͒͐̂͑͆̿̀̑P̶̧̡͈̮͓͔̙̰͇͍͚͛̑̈́̋̿͗̍͑̍̇͂͘ ̸̝̩̫̿̑̃̄͌̎̎̈̅̒̕͝͝ ̶̨̧̲̟͖͚͙͙̪̮̻̞͚͗̈́̓̉̾͛͋͐ ̶̥̩͗̒̒̈́̂͂̌̈́͌_

_S̷̨̡̛̫̺̥̲͕̭̟̜͔̲̘̲̞̯̃̽͂͊͂̈̈̇̀̃̆̾̈́̿̌̈́͌̿͌̋̑̏̅͘͘͘͘̚͜͜͝͠͝ͅT̵̢̢̹̯͔̯͇̳̠̲̳͔̽̓͐̅͗̿͑̈́́̓͐͋̓̃͌̅̋̅̅́̎̋̐̈́̈́̍̇̔̒͘͘͠Ơ̷̢͍͍̦͎̯̣̗̯͚͑̋̉̋̽̔̈́͊̂͗͒͂̇̾̃̿̎̕͝ͅP̵̯̰̱͈̰̭̪͚͎͉̹̠̑͐͜͜͜͠ ̷̧̡̧̛̛͖̻͔͍͔͈̟̪̮͍̲̻̹̼̹͂̈́̃͐͛̿̈́́̐̓̽̓̃̇͒̊̈́̂ͅ ̵̛̛̪̮̤̈́̄̓͂́̑̑͌̾͂͒͋͗̿̎̈̃͑́͛̊͋̒̎̆̃́͊̓͊̆͝͝ ̷̢̡̧̢̢̧̘̪̫͔̤͈͇̰͉̺̪̳̻̠͓̜̥̝͈̮͙̠͈̲̠̪͙̖̝͎̋͑̉̅͝ͅ ̴̛̠͔̥͔͍̙̥͍̺̞̻͒͆̏̉̀̓̒̑̒͗̐̆̐̆̽̊̀̃̂̈́͋̎̏̉͘͠͠͠͠͝ͅ ̷̡̡͉̘̬̣̘̟̙̆̾̃͐̀ ̶̫͖̹̝̻͇͗̑͊̍͝͝ ̶͈̲̯͇̠͖̣̘̦̥̹͒̏̀̕ ̴̡̨̡̭̗̪̘͕̱̺̪͚̪̤̩̗̱̗̙̱̠̯͓̯̙̮̱̪̪̝̘͎͚̬̫͌̑̂͂͑͐͜ ̷̧̧̧̛̪̲̩̻͈̗̰̤̝̳̲̹̺̦̺͖̩͓̬̃̽͛̇̍̅͒̓̌͐͒̈́̈́̌ͅ_

_S̶̡̨͓̩̼̥͕̫̬̜̬̫̭̀͝T̴̞͙̬͓̹̦͖̪̖̾̈́͊̿̎̂̀̂̓͊͑̈́͌̚̚͜ͅƠ̵̧̙̼͎͍̣̗̦̗̗͌̎͆͐͜͜͠P̸̞̮̭͍̲̞̖̩͛̂͑̋̾̉̚͝ ̶̨͈̼̗̜̘̹̃͐̆̃̈̃͠͝ ̵̳̽͂̊̓͆̾͊̔̍͊͊̄̏̅͝ ̴̙̯̱͇̮̮̪͓̘̦̝̲̯̒̈͝ ̴̧̰̹͎̼͓͔͎̙̮̹̪̘̩̻̊͐̈̌̚ ̷̡̩͕̞̟͔͖͍̫̒̄͐̃̌̌̏͂̊̓̑́̕ ̴̧̹͕̫̦͍̩͇̮̪̩̇͂ ̵̗̻̯͌̑̆̎̐̓͝ ̷̡̲̖̰̠̻̄̌̒ ̸̘͎̥̺͍̝͔̝͍͉̩͔͈̩̺͂̾͊͐̕ ̴͖̣͈̯̗̲̫͙̱͕̫͔́̇̿̉̊͆̄̀̎͝͝ ̸̛͔̠̘̥̖͈͇͊̄̎̽̄͋̚ ̵̧̧̛̭̹͚̣̼̖͙̋̅͗̃̈́͒̿̈ ̸̡̛̼͚̖̣͙̹͐̽͒̏̈́͂̈́̅̐̅ͅ ̸͉̟̞͇̟̘̱̖̯̗̂̊̒̐̿̾̈́͂͛̎̏̀̇ ̵̲̹̩̤͎̭̞̬͕̲̣͍̟̋̋̕ ̶̡̦̭̳͉̟̝̝̦͖̳͎͋̅̈́͑̈́͜ ̶̨͓͎̰̙̾̈́̓͋͋̋͊̀͘_

_̷̢̻͈̘̙̭̫̤̈́̅̐͆̍͂͘ ̵̙̙̪̈́̌͊̓̂͘̕ ̷̡̛̼̤͍͌ ̶͚̝̽̌̿͋̇̂̎͂͋̆̅͐͆̚ ̴̫̒̍͑͒̈́̎̐́͌̇̏͋̕ ̵̳̖̤̯͓̲̣͍̞̙̭͊̍͊́̊͜ͅ ̶̤̣͙̩̻̙̥͎̟̯̓͒̚ ̵̡̡̝͈̖̳͊͌ ̴̨̡͕̺̠̭̬̩̥̮͙͚̠͐̈̂̍͌͗̔̾̋̋͛͘̚͝͝c̸̡̹̜̟̮̟̥̫̲̯̿̿͂̈͊͛͒̈̿̋͛̂̌͠ͅö̴̢̨̞̠͖̲̩̻́̈́̃̓͑̈́̃me in, this is Captain Rogers, do you read me?"_

_"Steve, is that you? Are you alright?"_

_"P̴̡̱͈̣͚̺̠̊̑̊̌͂͊̂̽́͌̆̿͘͠ȩ̴̝̜͕͕͙̳͚̝̗̬͈̽̌̄̂͗̉̓̑͘͜ǵ̶̢̮̙͓̯͍͓͉̹̞̞̻̲̰͗͘͜ğ̵̡̣̳͉̝̭͇̲͂́̓͆̃͌͌ÿ̷̮̮̤̳̬́̊̆̽͛!̷̢̞͇̹͎̳̤̩̜̟͙̻͍̥́͌̈̆̕̚͜ Schmidt's dead!"_

_W̸͔̙̰͕͓̘̼͓̝̘̪̓̎h̶̡̨̛̞͍̝̠͇͕͔̲̃̑̓̊̌̊̊̆̕̕͘͜͝a̷̛̓̉ͅͅt̷̖̫̣̖͎͎͈̩̭̪͙̠͑̏̀̿-̸̟͗̾̓a̸̛͚̩͉͔̤͎̾̐̓b̷̢͙̫̤̼̣͓̥̠̣̌̕o̶̳̯̗͋̀̍̂͘ų̶̳̻̬̘̮͔͓̮̻̣̏͑͜ͅͅt̵̡̡̹̻̦̦͚̬̤̜͌-̴̡̛̙̪̺̟̺͍͔̯̭͕̮͉̯͑̈́̓̈́̍̍̃̆̒ͅt̸̨̢̞̠͍̜̼͇̰̯̯̊̕̕ͅh̵̐̆̿͛͋̑̈́̋͛̅͠͝ͅȩ̴̹̥̠̣̣͇̜͙͙̬̦̖̉͂̍-̴̢̬̠̬̳̳̀͜p̶̢̰̤̘̩̆̉̅̈́̄̔̑̓̋̅̕͝l̷͉̲͓͗͌̀͊̈́̈̈́̆à̴̡̗̭̜͍̰̱͔̙̮͌̊̚n̷̛̗̮̬̦̟̳̖̠̩͚͆͆͒̽͆̒̋̎̑͐̂̕ͅę̴̲̤̖͚͕̻̦̯̤͌͗͌̂̍̾̂͋̽͛́̕-̴̡̠͎̈́̊͜T̷̢̼̳͙͇̤̜̖̦̩͖̰̲͐̾̄̋͜͠H̶̡̭̳̝̼͕̑̾A̴͈̦̮̗̫͋̃̇͋͊͑͊̂̏̾͘̚Ț̶̡̠̫̻̰̝̤̮̱̼́͑̚'̸̡̹̦̜̫͍̜̮̙̜̯̞̤̮͐̒̄̃̀̊̀̍̌͒̚S̵̭̈̈́ ̸̰̽̽̍̄̏͋̈́͐̕͜͜͝ͅĄ̶̛̑̂͐̔̆͂̈́̓͝ ̶̛̣̔͆̑͑̇̑̓̔̈́͆̕Ḇ̶̡̻͖̻̰͒͐̊̕I̸͚̳̓̍̈̇͂̄̍̾͆̆̓͝T̴̙̮̰̞̟͋͂͗̋̒̎͆̄́ͅ ̷̟̙̊̈́̓͋̾͋T̵̛͍͈̠͎̭̠̠̹̼͕͉̤̝̹̼̓̐̐̏̔̒̈́͒̈́͝Ṏ̸̪́͑͂̃̈͘Ų̷̡̢̜͚̱̠͓̖̪̅̍ͅḠ̵̛̲̭͈̩̰̉̒͛̏̃̕Ȟ̶̨̡͓͎̜͖͔͇̖̱͊̂̋E̴̼̯̰͍̲̜̠̰͕͇͑͊̏̍̍̔͝͝Ŕ̷͚̟̦͉̙͉͇̫̗͎̭͖̰ ̵̨̧͔͈͗͂͑̒̉͂̀͂͜͝͝ͅT̵̰͇̹͕̆̿̄̇̅͋͘Ơ̸̢̧͎̗̮̩̺͌͒̍̉̈́̆̋̾̃̈́͠͝ͅ ̵̧̨̢̛̰̤̘̞̳̗̗͗͂͆̿͛̾̎̊̆̑̕Ę̴̡̪̪̺͎̹͖͍̜̰̈́̌̑͊͌̽͑̑̾̈́̔͜͜͝Ẋ̴̡̧̦͍͇̆̎̈́̃̚ͅP̴̡̼̙̼̮͙̙̓̏̄͛̑̅̏̀̈́͗͝L̸̡̛̗̣̟̱̲̜͇̰̭͙͛͌̽̍͊̉̓̽͛͝A̸̢̡̹̮̥̪̞̪̤͍͆͐͜͜͝ͅĮ̴̻̳̬̊̋̓̊͐͑̈́̈́̑͠Ņ̴̧͇͈̜͓̤̝̞̥̖̜̙̊̐̔̄̓̃_

_"Give me your c̸̠͎̽̓̈́̾̚ǫ̷̧̥̮̲̙͍̦̘̙̰̣͐́͑̋͌͊͆͒̕͝͝ͅọ̴̹̪̃͂̃̈͑̈́͊͆͑̚ŗ̸̧̨̪̞͙̼̤͍͈̻̯̦̉̊̚͠d̸̗̪̣̆͂̈́͐͑̉͒́̾̅̾̚͝ĩ̵͔͇̀̔̄̃̍̇̃̒̚͝͠n̸̢̼̹͍̣̣͈͎̹͇̫͈̺̟̖̓͌a̵̧̧̱̞̘̺͔̥̹̥̘̯͉̭̥̿͊t̶͈̐̈̒̋͗̒̅͌͛̄͂͛͒̿e̶̼̯̮̥̠̘̫͉̜̜̓̈́ͅs̶̰̤̩̯̰͠͠,̶̧̝̱͉̤̫̜̯̈́͋̎̄̀̌̐͝ͅ ̵̨̘͈͙͍̳̫̺̺̥̬̃̋̏̌̒͑̋͑͌͗̉̌͜͝ ̶͉̳̲͍̩͓̜̩͒́ͅ ̵̢̡̥̭͙͇̺͓̳̜͇͍͋̔͂͒̓̐̀̂̓͌͜͜͠͝ ̶̢̛̒̌̽̄͊̃̒̑̃͘͝͝͝ ̶̡͈̫̪̱̣͕̣̲̝̩̫̼̰̾̈́͋͋̅͒̆ͅ ̸̨͍̰͈͕͉̈́͊͗́̔̊̄͊̌͆̂͌͘͘ͅ ̶͍͉͖͔͚͓̳̘̊̃̀ ̷̼͎̩̭͈̗͈͓͎̤̬̩̋͒͗̽̏̓̊̏͠ ̵̢̯̰̬͕̱̩̋̔̽́̆̆̊͠͝͝ ̶̙̤̿̿̾̈́̒̀̈́͝ ̸̡̯̭͇̰̗̳͈̱͖̈́̽̐̄̒ ̵̡̛̛̜̥̠̺̠̞͓͍̝̼̹̅̀̊̔̈́̍̓̍̐͊̈́̇͝ ̵̛̙̝̥̥͙͖̞̑̈́͑̿̒̒̆͜ ̵̢̡̨̯̻̺͔͙͂̓̃́̀͋̄̚͝ ̷͖̬̞̆ ̸̧̖̭͈͍͎̤͚̩̲̻͐̈́̆ ̵̨̖͇̃̈́͆̈́͋̉̒͐͛̍̈́̋͠ ̴̲͉̜̥̠̟̦̪͆̋͘ ̷̨̨̟̬̗͈̊͌͒̍̍̿̆͛͗̄͐̏̕͝ͅ ̴̡̹̲̘̥̀̓̍̀̒͒̍̆͐͐͑̋̅l̷̬̯̤̣̹͈͓̺͒̾̀̅͊͋̽͜͠ḁ̵̧̩̇̽͛̎̿̎̿̊̍͋̓̓͑͝n̵̢̖͚̞̪͓͖͈̰̩̠̈̾̉̿̆̋͋̾̂ͅd̴͙̖͔̲̣̭̝̩͎̼̝̜̐̓̏͒͠͝͝͝ͅi̶̧̪̠͎̩͉͚̩͎͖̺̎̈́͋̊͂͜ͅn̶̳̬͇̤̰̜̞̝̙͕̣̊̎̎̓̿̐͆͑g̷͉̬͗͆͗ͅ ̷̦̹̦̲̩̣̪͖̳̞̤̒́̍͜ͅş̷̨̻̘̹̥̬͈̞̭̻͔̻̟͝ͅḯ̸̢̙͇̦̝̹̜̳̣̣̖̓͘͝ͅͅẗ̵̨̫̥̮̮͚͐͆̓̈́̓̌e̵̡̜͕̺̬͗͌̓͋̆͒̚͝͝͝"_

_"There's not gonna **be** a safe landing, but ̵̡̨̱̬̦̖̥͖̬̟̤̆̾͒̈̓ ̶̠̘͍̜͚̘̖͔̹̬̇͗́͆͐̊̇͂́͆̆̈́͘ͅ ̶͓̠̭̳͔͂͝͝ ̶̦͕̲͖̳̱͇͍̍̄̿̃̉͗̌̈́̈́̕͠ ̴̢̥̪̥̲̼̋̾̄̏̇̚ ̵̱̗̭̯̲̭̩͙̦͕̥̳͐͆̈̏̔͗̓͝͝ ̵͓̟̑̈́̑͊ ̶̙̳̬̩̬̙͓̔͆̽̑́͋̄̃́͛̆̓͠͝͝ ̶͓̪̱̺̣͖̹̗́͋̾̕ ̸͔̣͙̟̳̔͐̋̾̄͠ͅ ̶̡̬̦̳̱̖̱͂͋̾̎̅̓̌̃̄̚͠͝͝_

_force it down_

_̸̧̧̧̠͍̰͉͓̫̪͇̜͋͌͌̊̏̽̑̉͒̌͌̚̕͜͝ͅ ̵̛͚̟̖̮̗͛̇́̊̚ ̵̧͈̪̯̼̭͓̮̞̮̬̮̎̂͌̋̿̇̈̎̓̃̇͝ͅ ̷̢̜͕̠͍̪̖͈̞̤̀͂̍͐̅͌̑̓̂͝ ̸̹̐͛̍ ̷̡̪̉̿͌̇̎͋̎̐͛̈̋͜ ̵̧̡̯̟̺̗̭͇̦̞̦̻̭̆͛̈́͂͊͌͌͂̆̃̚͜ ̷̨͕̟̲͇͓̫̰͉̱̳̔̏̇̍̚̕̕͜ ̵̼̺͇̖̣̳̬̘̓̒͜͝ ̶̺̲͓͒̽͗̽̄̕ ̷̧̩̫̥̰͓̹̟͉̠̲͒̈́͆̓̐͝ ̶̨̬̱͓̖͎̼̱̜͇͎̓́͑͑̀̏͛͒̄͆͆̊̕͝ͅ ̴͉̬̝̟͍̠̹̱͉͍͖̣͛̀̎̇̉͝ ̸̬͉̼̯̮͕̳̯̈́͛͌̈́̎͂̌͌͐̐̏͌̾͑͜ ̸̢̛͔̜̎ ̸̫̑͛́͐͠ ̷͖̝̉͌͊͘ ̶̨̡͕͈̺̻̥͓̥̠̱̎̓̒̄͛͜͝ ̵͖͕̟̦̘͉͙͚̉͂̿̈́̉͐͒́͑̚͜͝ ̷̙͓̤͈̜̬͗͊ ̶͈͙͍̗̒̅̇̔͂͆̏͛͜͝ͅ ̶̢̨̫͇̞̬̗̱̟̗͈̮̹͈̊̐ ̶̧͍̮̩̃͒̔͜ ̵͓͎͕͈͙̦̖̤̃͛͛̓̄̌̑͘͘͜ ̶͚̖̠̥̣̮̍̊̃͊̅̎̓͘͜͜ͅ ̴̧̞̙̙͚͓͇̆̓̅͌̇͘ ̸̨̢̞̙̼̖̜͕͔̳̒̎̆̐͑̐͂͋͝ ̶̡͓̻͓̺̌̉̔͆̏͗Į̷͙̥̜̱͕͕̠̝͕͖̝̮͉̯̎̓̐̅̅͛̃͊́́̒́̕͘'̵̨̢̗̯̩̲̱̦̩͉̺̤͑͋͐̔͝l̴̨̰̤̗̱̙͚̜̤̣̒̄̀̉l̸̨̢̧̬̬̼̤̱̦͍̬̈́ ̷͎̳̗̈͋̆͊̾̑̿̑̿́͛̌͘͘̕g̵̨̛̛͍͔͕͓̺͗̈̔͗̐̽̂̔́͛̃͛e̵̢̼̲̗̙͇̱̪̪͙͔̼͕̿̈́͜͝ţ̷̖͈͙̾̈̀̾̋̐̋͐͑͝ Howard on the line, to do_

_̷͇̮̘̤̱̬̲̞͉̘̼̙͎̋̋̂̇̕ ̵̼̜̘̗̰̯̣̘̤̭̗̗̞̩͆͊̋̀̏̈́̊̊̉̄͗̅͝͝ ̴̢̨͈͈̱̍͗̆́̑̆̓̐̍̂̌̚ ̸̫͉͓̰̹̳̤͖͉̹̔̆̑̓̕͜ ̶̙̈́̔̿̔́͝ ̷̟̺̥̹̊̂͒̽ ̸̢̫̪͚̠͎͕̥͕̯͉̖͐͊̔̚ ̵̤̫͖̺̩̩͎̱̈́̂̊͌͛̌̊̄͐̚̕͠͝͝ ̶̧̛̬̝̥̙͖͙̭͊̑̆̍̍͒̔̂͆͊͘͘͘ ̵̧̣̱̹̜̦̠̱̍̂̀͋͌̿͌̊͛̿̚̕ȋ̴̞̜̰̗̩͕̩̗̼̺̺͙̂͜͝ͅͅt̶͙͍̘͈̱̦͈̗͔̥̲̗̟́̉̎̚'̷̢̛̞͇̗̥̻̫̻̙̳̫͒̈̎͘ͅs̶̱̭̪̹͂͗̈́ ̷̛̙̱͕͚̪͔̥̻̪̠͚͇͚̝̿̌̇̓͐̀̄͝ͅm̴̩͉̝̲̻͇̹̹̲̻̮̘̜̞̒͐̀̊̂̒̈͂͆̓͆͊̔ͅơ̸̧̛̤̭̹̣̗̠̯̲̣̊̾̿̔̈́͑̈́͂̍͠͝͝v̴̡̧̝̟̭̜̝̱͔͛͂̒̋̕͠ͅį̸̡̡̫͓͑́̓͌̾̍̿̚͜͝͠ͅņ̸̡̺͖̹͈̼̻̻͈͍̣̙̝̇̈́͠g̵̫̬̻͔̬͖͙͗̏̆̈́͗̅̒̑̑͌̅͠͝ ̵̪̑̅́̈̊̓́̽́̾͐̋̚͠t̸̢̥͔̞̣͔̱̱͎̥͈͎̓̽͝o̷̢̢̖̻͈͎̹͇̍̌́͘͜͜͝ ̷̧̛̖̻̻̱̓̈́̈́̒̂͊̈f̴̛̝͇̉̌̌̔̚͝a̵̧̰̬̩̎̈̐͌͐̈̄̿̕̚s̴̢̧̥̱̜̱̩͎̰͐̎̏̐̓̒̊̾̏̄̒͘͘͜ẗ̴̹̝̫̻̣͈́̎͗̑͝͠ ̵̧̢̧̩̰͕͈̻̘̯̦̥̖̏͛̍̈́̽̕ ̵̨̯̠̘͕͙͓͌̈́́͊͘͝ ̸̧̞͔͚̜̦̥̲̩̔͊̾̾͒̒̈́̎̿̆͂̕̚͝ͅ ̷̩̖͓͓͎̯͔̱͖̉̉͐̅̅̕͜͝͝͠ ̸̡̨̮̺͉̜̺̤̝̫̝̬͓̰͎͆́̒͑̓͑͆̔͊̓̈́̊̆̚ ̴̧̗̗͙̲̥̮̲̰̱͇̼͒̑͗̎͛̓̈́͘͝ ̴͕̖͖͖̬̮̞̯͚̖̈́̆ ̵̧̘͔̻̞̙͙̻̝͙̗̜̝͇͂̅́̐͑͆͂ͅ ̶̛̭̣͉̺̱̤͆̀͆̓̏̏̔̎͐̎͘͘͝͝h̴̯͉͔̲̗̺̰͔͖͔̣̝̄̃̿͋͌̅̌̾̉͗̔̏̕͜e̷͖̼͚̥͎͕͚͚̣̍̔ͅa̷͈̍̅͋̅̌̑̏̒̔̂̂͝_

_New York_

**I gotta put her in the water...**

_"Please, don't do this we have t̴̢̧͎̤͂̆̈́͌̒̋̄̇̐͊̃͛͌i̷̡̨̧̨̞̣̳͎̺͍͉̠͙͂͛́̕ͅṃ̵͕̩̯͍̬̂̆͋̒̔̐̓̈́͠ę̵̖̭̱̭̿̚ we can we_

_we_

_we_

_we_

_we_

_"Peggy..."_

_T̴̤̍̐̎̑̐̊̓̊̂͛̽̚̚ͅh̸͕̺̲̪̮̬̗̙̮̩̺̬̣͙̃̉ȋ̷̡̦̤͕̥̥͉̩͉͓̦̲͍͇̩̅͒͆̆͝s̷̭̥̦͓̐̓̔͛͋̈́̌̓̓̐̈́͊ ̶̡̢̝̬̼̪̹̜̟̱̗̓͝i̴̠͆̐͆̑̄̍̚s̸̤̱̠̳̟̘̪̠͓̤͇̘̗̆ ̶̧͇̞͔͙̹̠̙͇̔́m̷̡̞̠̟̞͍̥̞̹͖̰̲͙͎͂̔̌̎̅͒͘y̷̯̼̙̤̤͎̦͆̓͌͆̃ ̴͈͍̹͇͋c̷̨͇̣͎̖̰͍̫̞͋ḩ̷̢̧̱͈͎̉̅̈́̉̽͆̀o̴̢̡͇͓̭̠̹͖̖̙̓̊̿͆̈̀̾̆͠͝į̸̧̡̼̺̩̼͉̬̖͆̊́́̕͜͠ͅč̶̨̺̭̦̙̬͓̳̒̽̆̇ȩ̵̢̛̭͇͙̗͉̝̰͙̺̽͆̌̍̏̆̏̑̔̈́̿̊͝_

_we're gonna need a raincheck o̶̫̰̣̰̓̏n̴̡͓̳̬̫̯̲̖͍̜͈̣͇̟͎͒̋̌̄̑̍͛͆͊̕͝ ̸̛͖͙̙͍͇̼̝̞̙̠̹̠̲̎̋̿̑̈́̈́̾̿̾͂̾̅̚̕͜t̷̛̫͇̮̣͈͎͇̺̕ḩ̴̨̤͓̰̰̥̬̎̍̍͗̓̓͠͝ã̵͚̺̣̖̝͙͖͓̓t̵͙͓͔̹̙̜̻͔̠͖̃̓̋͂̂̇̉̅̆̎̆̏͝ ̸̥̠̙̭͎̮̰͕̭̲͖̌̉̆͝d̸̡̫̻̮̮̺̟̘̰̺̤͈̪̉͒͂̆̒͗́̎̾̕̚á̷̻̗̪̗͓͇̼͚̼̦̥̙̈́͑̓̆̾͊̕n̵̢̛̗̟͇͔͉͆͋̀̆̇̐̂̂͌c̵̲͇̯̣̠͇̤̮̓ȩ̷̨̛̰̻̺̈́͛͋͑̇̽͊̿̅̍ ̵̛̤̼̻̞̒̈́̅̍͗̽͐̏̚ ̸̛̘̐͌̉͒͆̆̔͝ ̷̛̭̙̩̭͇̦͛̽̂̈́̋̔̀̿͛̒̈́̂ͅ ̸̧̡̖̻͔͓̗̰͓͈͙͐ ̸̻͂͋̄͒̏͂ ̴̢̱̪̹̦͖̟̈́͆̈́̽̄͑̅̿̕̚͝ ̵̢͓̭̩͇̍̔̈́̇̏͝ ̶͓͖̹̻̞̻̌̄̉̎̈̉͘̚͜ ̸̡̢̙̯̤͈̠̝͕̯͇͈͊͘͝ͅ ̷̢̢̛̯̮̼͙̥͕̖͈̳̤͔͗́̃̋̀̄͐͆̐̽̿_

**_8 o' clock on the dot, don't you dare be late_ **

**_just_** be there

"I'd hate to step on yo̶͕̫͈̟̗̩͛͋̾̃͌̓̈́͗͝u̷̢͓͚̲̘̖̰̰͚̯̱͆̌͗̈́̿̄͝ŗ̶̡̰͉̱̎̈̔̄̑͜ ̸̧͙̪͉̳̱̣̦̤͈̹͉̩̃̓͌ͅ ̷̡̻̤̯̪̞̊̀̈̅̓͒̾̀̕ ̷̨̹̺̤͓͔̹̱̈́͊̃̈́͂͆̐̾̚̚͜͝ ̶̤̫̹̗̤̥̹̳͇̇͋̂̒̂̃̈́͌̄͗̊̀̓͆ ̸̻̲̑͑͆͗̅͒̽͆̏ ̵̧̟̪̙̘̥̖̺̖̯̰͔͇̜͋̋ ̵̤̹͖̯̗̣̳̜̤̫̪̱̗̤̄͌͐̑̓͑ͅ ̸̹̥̉́̎̋̆̈́͋̿̓̎̉́͝ ̶̢̮͖̬̙̳̥̜͎̿̓̒̅̽̏͛́̚ ̶͚̣̎̾̏́̐̅͛͒ ̶̲̰̇̋̇͌͝ ̶̲̑͋̀͛͑̓́͑̈́ ̷͚͎̹̠͚̦̯͇̟̖͖̼̫̻̱̍͒͌̐̋̅̂̐ ̸̡̖̠͉̙̫̻̯̄͆̉̃̇̅͗̎̒͝͝͠͝͝ ̸̧̗͇̞͔̣̩̝͎̖̭͇̈́̇͗̿̊̅̕̚̚̚͝ ̶̧̧̫̞̬̪͖̠͓͎͖̟̭̤̈̾̂̿̊̓̔̅ ̷̢̘̈͂̅͛͒͊ͅ ̷̡̧̹̗̻̬̲̬̮͇̀̌̓̇̋̊͗͛̔͂̀͠ ̴̲̹̲͎̖͚͓̤̓ ̴̨̗͕̻̰̞̠͈̼͍͔͚̹̱̺̉͗͂̄̋̍̉̚͘ ̵̡̛̩̣̦͙̼̳͉͒̇̐͌͠͝͠ ̸̡̧̛̻̰̲̙̩̥͚͖̮̼̫̦͋̎̌͠ͅ ̶̢͎̫̜̣͖̦̦̗̩̖͐̉͆̿̿̉ͅ ̴̧̛̯͖̥̩͕̬̯̍̂͝ ̵̡̢̘̪̖͎̘͙͊̈́̓̆͋͗̈́͑͠ ̴̬͙̜͍̱͍̝̘̘͚̬̑́̿ ̶̨̼͕̳̼̘̯̭̽͛̓̆̍̉͊͂͐̊͛͝ ̸̨̧̥̬̠̭͚͕̙͓̯͛̐͂̅̏̐̽̄̑ ̵̞̯̣̪̾̀̔͑̑̽̇̕͠͠ͅ ̵͓̽̃͆̈̊̔̇͗̎͘͝ ̴̨̮̤̤͎̫̯͉̪̗͛͋̇̄̑̅̉͋̚͘͘ ̸̧̢̫̰͕̖̺̩̞͈̫͌̇̎͌̈́̒̌̿̄̀̂̾͊͘͝ ̸̨̧͇͔̗̹̩̘͎̈̈̍̋̒͠ ̴̻̖̻̙͚̏̍̆̚͜ͅͅ ̵̢̢͚̲͙͖̔̆͌̌̿͝ ̷̨̡̘̺͔̭̫͉̭̖̊̒͊͆͒̈́̿́̒̈́͂͛ ̶̧̡̩̙̲̳͓̩̝̜̰̠̎̽̍̋͊͑̒̔͗̂̕͘ ̸͙͇͈͒͊͘ ̴̛̣͎̰̮͎͓͓͎̜̮̦̙̌͆̑̓̌̈́̓͒̄̈́͝͝͝͝ ̵̥͙̝̖̈́͊̾͐͛̇̈͝ͅ ̷̰̠̪̫̱̼͗̊͌̿͌̓̕ ̵̛͙̰̦͈̖̣̯̦̥̪͉͔̃̈́̎͛̊̎̉̌̑̕͜ ̸̢̦̳͓͙̲̹̼́̍̉̎͊͆͗̕ ̷̡̢͈̬͉̝̫̪̮̫̲̦̄̾̀̐̈̃̔̚͜͝ ̵̧̭̱̣͈͇͕͕̖̮̆͋͐̓͋̓̏͋̊̋̽ ̶̝̪͔͚̂̄͒̏̓̓͒̓́̒̒̓̈́̅͘ ̵͇̮͈̯̟̏̌̆́̆͌̌͐̕̚ ̵̟̜̼̖̩̬̟̈̄̈́̂ͅ ̴̡̨̢̨̬͍̺͇͖̙̣̠̬̥̊̂̔̑̓͆͘͘̕ͅ

Ｏｈ ｍｙ ｇｏｄ．．． ｔｈｉｓ ｇｕｙ＇ｓ ｓ̭̋͂̊̏ｔ̸ｉ̴ｌ̸̆̇̃̍̌ͅｌ̛̬̰̣ͅ ̬̗̱̮ͅａ̨̱̣̀̊̉̎̎̊̈̂ｌ̵̛̮̭̑̇ｉ̴̩̬̏̎͗̈ｖ̵̨̬̬̬̹̎͗̍̊̈̈ｅ̵̧̈̋̂̌̑

**TROUBLE** **SLEEPING?**

...

...

...

"...Are you here with a mission, sir?"

* * *


	3. Game Night's Over, I Suppose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor catches his brother sneaking in someone else's house, and gets caught himself in the process.

* * *

" _Where is the Tesseract?_ "

"I-I missed you too," Loki laughs dizzily along the ground.

" _Do I look to be in a gaming mood?_ " Thor growls.

"O-oh, you should _thank_ me," Loki manages to stutter in between his breathless gasps. "With the Bifrost gone, how much dark energy did-did-did your _father_ have to muster to conjure you here? Your _precious_ Midgard."

_Damn it, brother._ Mjolnir drops to the ground as Thor lurches forward, taking his brother by the shoulders, and even still, Loki giggles half-deliriously under his breath.

It's shameful, the tearful croak that comes out of his throat. "I thought you dead."

Loki falls slack and silent in his arms. His eyes are weary, almost _dead_ , and Thor feels he would have taken even the mad laughter over this.

"Did you mourn?" he whispers flatly.

"We all did. Our father-"

" _Your-_ father..." Loki stiffly staggers away from Thor's weakened hold. "He did tell you about my _true_ parentage, did he not?"

"We were raised together! We played together, we _fought, together_." There's something _pleading_ in his eyes, he knows. But Loki always was able to bring out the worst of him. "Do you remember none of that?"

"I remember a shadow," his brother's voice wavers. "Living in the sh-ade of _your_ greatness." He walks closer and Thor can see the threat of tears in the shine of his eyes. "I remember you, tossing me into an _abyss_ \- I who _was,_ and _should_ be king!"

Tossing him- did he- _how could he possibly believe-_

"So you take the world I love as _recompense_ ," Thor spits, "for your _imagined_ _slights_ _?_ "

And he knows his mistake as soon as he makes it- he'd known always the fragile nature of Loki's pride and he sees it in the hurt, wrathful twist of his brother's face. He hears it in the spiteful words he can barely hear over the rising panic in his own ears, the words he can barely remember flying out of his own mouth, and _they don't have time for this, they don't have time-_

"I have grown, _Odin-son_ , in my exile-"

_You are Odinson, too, brother, have you forgotten even this?_

"-I have seen the true power of the Tesseract," Loki rambles on, "and when I wield it-"

"Who showed you this power?" Oh, Thor's right, isn't he. The sudden frozen deer look of Loki's eyes, like when he'd been caught in a trick as a boy. "Who controls the would-be king?"

But the fear in his eyes, that is new. " _I am a king-_ "

"Not here!" Thor takes his brother by the shoulders. "You think yourself above them-"

"W-well-"

"No! Midgard plays host to forces that are _beyond_ either of us, beyond even the Allfather's sway! You wish to bleed your grief, do it not here! You give up the Tesseract, you give up this _poisonous_ dream!" Despite himself, Thor reaches out to cradle his brother's head- and for a moment, Loki seems almost to lean toward the touch.

"I-"

"Loki, _please._ Leave this road where it lies. If you wage this war, I cannot protect you from what follows. _Come home._ Let us help you."

"Help?" his brother parrots hysterically. " _Help?_ " And all his reward is a despairing note of laughter. "You're already too l-late."

"Listen well, brother, I-"

=<>=

Tony's not gonna sit around and wait for Rapunzel over here to snipe Loki with his magic whack-a-mole, but the build up to whatever move the guy was gearing for was an _excellent_ _ly_ vulnerable time window to tackle him out.

Whatever. If big, buff, and blonde is looking for a fight, he's game. He's done his homework. He's read the files. Guy's got an electric swing- good time as any to test the shock absorption threshold of the Mark VI.

Except that isn't what happens.

What happens is Point Break takes a very _pointed_ look at the arc reactor in his chest- something nervous and almost _wary_ crosses the alien's face.

He holsters his hammer and raises his hands appeasingly, briefly crossing them together in an odd, sort of diamond-shaped salute as he half-bows.

"Please, I meant no hostility or trespass. I am Thor, son of Odin. I hail from Asgard."

"Uh-huh, yeah, cool. What were you planning on doing with Rock Of Ages over there?"

"I- I intended to interrogate Loki as to the whereabouts of the Tesseract that he had stolen. It is of aesir craft, it should not have been in his hands."

_Which begs the question of why SHIELD had it in theirs._

"Cool. Uh-" He taps a rhythm at his own chest. "Me and _my_ guys, we were wondering the same thing. So why don't you come with us, help us keep _your_ guy all nice and caught, and we can figure this out together? Sound nice? Sound good?"

"I-" The... aesir, was it? The aesir's eyes flick down to the arc reactor again, nodding along to his words almost _nervously_. "-yes. That might be for the best."

Tony claps his gauntlets together. "Fan-fucking-tastic. Welcome aboard, Point Break."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're talking a bit funny, aren't you, loki


	4. The Lady Of The House Comes Knocking,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And she finds your house not in order to receive her.

* * *

_"Sir?"_

Nick pauses from his talk with Loki to press a hand to his mic. "What do you got, Hill?"

_ "He found us." _

_Fuck._

=<>=

There's someone waiting for them on the bridge.

A large, broad man(?) half dozing in his seat, white boots crossed over themselves on the table. Almost smartly dressed- vest a rosewood red, a white dress shirt, a little tie. A freckled body in an odd blush pink, with curling, rosy hair.

There's something almost darling about the image, this soft colored scene of someone at rest. But Agent Hill looks nervous, and all the guards seem to be actively fighting the instinct to point their guns.

Steve Rogers has not seen a Gem in nearly 70 years, but it's not exactly something anyone can forget.

She meets their eyes and hers are dark, _dark_ things- familiar, fair, fathomless, terrifying. _Come away, O human child, to the waters and the wild._

Fury practically storms onto the bridge, gazes hardened as he lays eye on the Gem. "You have no business here."

"You've stolen away one of my wards, Director. It's only right for me to wonder why." 

Dr. Banner bows his head just slightly. "Your Radiance."

  
  
"Doctor." Her voice is a low, weighted thing, a ringing song that edges on fond. "I do hope they treat you well."

"A bit nervous, but no one's poked me with a bullet yet."

"Good, good."

Steve really feels like he's missing something big, with the way that Thor, a literal alien who knows barely anything about Earth, looks almost afraid to see this Gem here.

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to cut in, "no disrespect, but who is this?"

"Asteria Diamond," Romanoff whispers. "One of the four leaders of the Gem Empire. As far as the rest of the universe is concerned, she owns the Earth and everything in it."

"But certainly not the people." Fury's posture in polite enough, but there's not an ounce of deference in it. "So I'll ask again- what business do you have here?"

"Two counts of illegal and clandestine Asgardian trespass upon the Earth, one of which has made eighty casualties in two days." Her words are for Fury, but her eyes are for Thor. "I think I've got _every_ business here. It makes me wonder why you tried to hide it from me in the first place."

Thor steps closer. "Your Radiance-"

A deep, motor-worthy growl echoes throughout the bridge. At the Diamond's side, there sits a lion, or something like it- a stout, saddled, horse sized creature with rosy hair and flowers in its mane. Its eyes glow ghostlike as it snarls, teeth gleaming with pearlescence.

Thor backs away until the growl subsides, hands uneasily clasped together. "Your Radiance," he uneasily starts again, "I must beg that you spare some mercy for Loki. He may be beyond reason, but he is my brother. Something has disturbed him in the mind, made him not himself. He is in need of help, not a sword."

"I gotta agree a bit on that one," Banner nods. "That guy's brain is a bag full of cats. You can _smell_ crazy on him."

Schmidt had been crazy too. Didn't mean he couldn't almost take half of Europe down with him. "Crazy or not, he's got motives," Steve starts up again. "Thor, what's his play?"

"He has an army," Thor murmurs pensively, "called the Chitauri. They are not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people, and they will win him the Earth- in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."

"So he's building another portal," Banner concludes. "That's what he needs Erik Selvig for."

The Diamond narrows her eyes, though not unkindly. "Are humans able to build portals now?"

"Not with any of _our_ own tech, no. But the Tesseract has some _major_ space-time warping fuckery going on, and Selvig is one of the best astrophysicists alive. If anyone could pull it off, it'd be him." Banner gestures with a pinched hand- it's an oddly graceful gesture for someone of his size. "What we need to worry about right now is the mechanics. _Iridium._ What do they need the iridium for-"

"It's a stabilizing agent."

_Well look who finally decided to grace us with his presence._ Stark swaggers onto the bridge in his infuriatingly pristine two-piece suit.

"It means," the man lays down like he's talking to a bunch of rookies fresh from camp, "that the portal won't collapse on itself like it did with SHIELD. _Also_ means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants." He saunters to the command platform, making a few flippant gestures and jokes about sails and ships, like he was playing captain. " _That man is playing Galaga!_ " he points at some poor operator like a tattling child.

"Sorry," the Gem murmurs, blinking harshly to herself a few times.

"Hm?" Stark turns back and looks, _really_ looks at the gathered group, a wry edge to his smile as his eyes land on the Diamond herself. _Oh no._ "Hey there, Stardust," he quips (flirts, more like) with a wink, "welcome aboard." _Jesus, Stark. Do you want to die or something?_

Stark's a smart guy- smart, and just this side of cocksure the way Howard was once, fiddling with everything and everyone like he owned the place, not standing still for a minute even as he broke down the logistics of the portal even more.

"It's good to meet ya, Dr. Banner." It's unwieldy to shake hands with an eight foot giant, but he manages anyway. "Your work on anti-electron collisions is _unparalleled_."

Good to see he's got _some_ level of Howard's professionalism. Maybe working with him won't be so bad after all.

"Also I'm a huge fan of the whole enormous green rage monster aesthetic you've got goin' on here. Real festive." 

_And it's gone._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring once again the reminder that asteria diamond is nonbinary and has no canonical pronouns
> 
> tony. dumb, dumb tony. he means _Ziggy stardust_ , little does he know that star based nicknames are terms of endearment in gem language,,, little does he know he just called asteria diamond halfway between _babe_ and _darling_ , right to the man's face,,,


	5. All I Packed Was A Toothbrush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data data data.

* * *

"Y'know, you should come by Stark Tower sometime. Top ten floors- all R & D. You'd love it, it's Candyland." He points his tool at Asteria Diamond. "Open offer, by the way- both of you come on down, have a drink or twenty. I wanna know how our shiny human toys measure up to the science of cosmic communism."

"Thanks, but I'm not exactly sure I'd make it past security," Banner deadpans, tapping away at his touch screen with a mildly oversized stylus. "The last time I was in New York I kinda broke... Harlem."

"Well," Tony insists, "I promise a stress free environment. No tension, no surprises." As he passes Banner by, he gives him a good ol' healthy zap in the side. Right in the cardigan. 

Hardly even a flinch. _Nice_. 

"Hey!" 

_Oh god, here comes the cavalry._ Captain America **TM** strides in all his star-spangled glory, a stern look on his face. "Are you nuts?"

"Jury's out." Rogers' frown deepens, but he got a laugh out of Jolly Green over here, so score. "You really have got a lid on it, haven't you. What's your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of-"

"Is everything a joke to you?" Rogers scolds.

"Funny things are." 

Rogers might be physically just shy of thirty, but damn if he can't act his age. "Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny." He turns a briefly appeasing hand to Banner. "No offense."

"It-it's alright," Banner murmurs. He almost gestures with his hand, but stops, almost shrinking down with every word. "I wouldn'tve come aboard if I couldn't handle... pointy things."

_Note to self- Doctor Green's afraid of military types._

"You're tip-toein', big man," he points from across the table. "You need to strut." _Don't get all cagey on me just 'cause Saving Private Ryan over here's making eyes at you._

"And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark."

_Could you stand to be rude for once?_ _God_ _._

"You think I'm not?" Tony shoots back. "Why did Fury call us in, why now- why not before? What isn't he _telling_ us?" He stuffs a blueberry in his mouth- it's rude, but fuck it, he's mad. "Can't do the equation unless we have all the variables."

Rogers looks back to Asteria Diamond. _She's_ been strangely silent this whole time, breezing past their verbal sparring with an unsettlingly neutral smile on her face as she goes through her own work. "We probably shouldn't be discussing this in front of present company, Stark-"

"-What, so we should discuss this _never?_ " He looks back at her- still silent. "Fury- he's a _spy_. Cap, he's _the spy_. His _secrets_ have secrets." She's probably not even paying attention- he can practically _see_ the spooky alien data swimming in her eyes from her pink holographic screens.

=<>=

"You're Howard's son," she finally says when the Captain leaves.

"So you _were_ listening the whole time." _Kind of creepy, but- aliens, I guess._ "What, knew my old man back in the day?"

"I remember _him_ ," she vaguely gestures at the door. "The Captain, from one of your wars. He mentioned a friend named Howard Stark."

"Oh yeah, I forget you guys are like, immortal or something." He stuffs some more blueberries in his mouth. At this point, he might be just this side of stress eating. "Is it rude to try and carbon-date you? I'm curious."

"Four." She pauses with thought. "Well- four and a half, really."

"Four what? Centuries? Millenia?"

"Gyrs." _Billions_. Guess _Banner_ didn't know that either, the way his big ol' eyebrows jump out from under his glasses.

"Well-" _mark me down as absolutely fucking terrified at the implications of that particular_ _answer_ , "-you're looking _great_ for your age, Stardust. Real nice luster."

"You've got quite a _shine_ yourself, Doctor," she fires right back, eyes lingering on the glow under his Black Sabbath shirt.

"Thanks, I made it myself."

And on God, she laughs like a piano riff.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tony, once again, thinking he's making Cool Joke and not realizing that referring to gems with such pretty words as _luster_ has Actual Implications
> 
> asteria: this absolute madman calls me _stardust_ to my face and now he's using pretty words like _luster_. Interesting.


	6. The Struck Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phase 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accessibility warning for vision or reading impaired: this chapter contains minor passages with exotic formatting. These are deliberate stylistic choices and are not intended to be visually/verbally coherent.

* * *

Tesseract.

PEGASUS.

HYDRA.

Phase 2 _._

_A warm light for all mankind to share?_

_Or a nuclear deterrent._

"Rogers, we gathered _everything_ related to the tesseract, this does not _mean_ that we're making-"

"I'm sorry, Nick," Dr. Stark cuts off, pulling his screen to view. "What were you lying?"

"I was wrong, Director," the Captain's disappointed voice carries. "The world hasn't changed a bit."

"Did _you_ know about this?" Dr. Banner asks Romanoff as he gestures at the weapon schematics.

"Uh, y'all…" Steven tries to interject, "this _really_ isn't the time..."

"No-o-o, I think now's the _perfect_ time," Dr. Banner insists, waving with his stylus. "I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction."

"Because of _him_ ," Fury points at Thor. And looks back to Steven. "Because of _you_."

Oh. Oh no.

"Two years past, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town."

"There were no human casualties," Steven tries to remind the director, "and there was no lingering damage. We ensured that. You know this."

"And I don't mean to be ungrateful for that, Your Radiance." Fury looks out at the room. "But that's rather besides the point. We, humanity, were reminded that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, _hilariously_ outgunned."

"We only want peace-"

" _But you're not the only people out there, are you?_ " Fury presses. " _And_ you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched- that can't be controlled."

"Like you controlled the Cube?" Rogers bites.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it," Thor half-growls, " _and_ his allies-"

"And it's all _very_ upsetting, I assure you," Steven cuts in, "but there really _are_ more pressing matters than-"

"-It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war."

"A higher form?" Rogers whispers.

"You forced our hand-" the director snaps.

"A nuclear deterrent," Dr. Stark blurts. " 'Cause that always calms everything right down."

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark-"

On and _on and on_. It _never_ stops. They just won't stop fighting, why can't they just _stop_ for one second?

"Hold on. How is this now about me?"

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?"

_And the noise. What on earth is that noise?_

"I thought humans were more evolved than this-"

" _Excuse me_. did we come to your planet and-"

_Stop. Stop, stop it, stop it-_

"-monitors potential threats-"

"C tain Amer 's on a threat watch?"

"We _all_ are-"

_We don't have time for this,_ **we don't have time** -

"-rk, so help me god, y one more wisecrack-"

_Why do you **always do this**_

"Sho respect- _respect what?_ "

Because they're fighting. ~~_Again._ ~~

"You speak of control, yet you court chaos-"

Because they can't go one minute without tossing eachother like animals, _because that's just how it is, that's just how it always is,_ ~~he always has to sit and watch and pick up the pieces-~~

"-chemical mi e that _makes_ chaos. We're a _time bomb-_ "

Their anger and contempt and _selfish pettiness_ boil over eachother in discordant, earsplitting layers that he can hardly hear _over the rise of his own so **ng ringing in his ears and**_

**"CAN'T**

**YOU...**

**RESTRAIN YOURSELVES!!"**

=<>=

The helicarrier _shivers_ like a struck bell.

The room stops, frozen. Anger withers and dies, smothered in the burning heart of a star.

It takes a few seconds for Natasha to realize she can't move because she's _terrified_.

Asteria Diamond's hand still lingers over the clawed gouges it puts on the wall. Their skin is cloaked in a toxic electric glow like an overclocked monitor fit to explode, and the diamonds of their eyes are dead, slit crosshairs. Their mouth is set and flat, brows just barely and sharply angled. A face so carved, so carefully empty, one could almost believe it was never angry at all. 

Almost.

Wrathful song lingers, ringing in their ears.

**"Did you have fun?** **"** Their smile is angels, their eyes are dead, their song is murder. **"Did you get everything out of your system."**

Silence.

"Good, good." They kiss their hand and lay it back on the wall. Metal stiches itself together like flesh and bone. " _Swallow your pride and do your job._ "

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FADIAMT uses the MCU timeline expressed in the MCU wiki. which would mean _Thor_ took place in 2010 and _The Avengers_ took place in 2012.
> 
> How has people's comprehension of the FADIAMT timeline been so far? Hopefully it's at least vaguely coherent what order things take place in. While precise dates are not _particularly_ necessary to understand FADIAMT, I did write this series using specific time frames in mind, and I've been considering creating a timeline chapter in the companion fic for those interested in such things. Tell me if it'd be something y'all interested in.


	7. Not In This For Your Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barton opens his eyes.

* * *

Two seconds ago, things made sense.

Things were simple. Easy.

Easy to follow. Easy to believe.

The work. The mission.

Get Loki, get the sceptre, get out. That was the mission.

And then he would open the gate, and then...

and then...

...a world made free. Free of... everything.

Things made sense.

That was two seconds ago.

And then the song kicked in.

A song, a song. God in heaven, could you call it a song? But there is no other word of this sound, this terrible pressure that rings his skull like a struck bell.

Only a micro-instant, but- it was terrible pressure crashing right into his brain, like God had suddenly turned all its inumerable eyes upon him and found him wanting. It rolls tidal all around the sky, a song gone so quickly it almost wasn't real.

But the fear. The fear on everyone else's face- that's real. They heard it too.

A song, a fury, but not for them.

And slowly, suddenly, the mission stopped making sense.

He looks at the people around him- people he came here with, people he _led_ here. The masks, the armor, the guns.

The mission.

~~Someone else's mission.~~

Clint Barton looks at the nearest soldier he was supposed to lead, and grabs his first arrow.

* * *


	8. You Brought The Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The monster and the cage. The diamond and the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accessibility warning for vision or reading impaired: this chapter contains minor passages with exotic formatting. These are deliberate stylistic choices and are not intended to be visually/verbally coherent.

* * *

_"Romanoff. Who's on the landing?"_

Agent ~~Clint~~ Barton staggers out of the plane, alone, with a bow in his hands and an empty quiver on his back.

"Nat-" he crashes to his knees.

_Shit._ Against all logic, against all reason, against all instinct, she moves to catch him before he falls all the away.

" _Romanoff, do you copy. Who is on the landing."_

He looks like he hasn't slept in days. Maybe he hasn't. She taps her earpiece. "It's Barton."

_"Is he alone?"_

She doesn't look at the arrow riddled bodies inside the plane. "He is now."

_"Are you implying what I think you're implying?"_

"It looks like our resident Diamond's voice carries more than we thought."

A pause.

" _Shit, somebody get eyes on Loki-"_

=<>=

Where

Where is

What

Where did

I

_You will long for something as sweet as p a i n_

No no no no no no pl ease

please, I-I-I-I-

"What the fuck?"

"What is going on here?"

"I don't know sir, he just started seizing up after that weird... noise..."

Why is why is why is

why is it so quiet

the the the the

What are his orders? Where are his orders?

It's gone, it's gone, it's gone it's gone it's gone

_I'm alone._

_I'm alone._

_(i'm lost)_

"Bróðir? Vinsamlegast, bróðir… Lokki, það er ég, _það er bróðir þinn, það er Þórr_ -"

"I don't think you're helping, Point Break-"

"Jesus, he's really out of it."

Brother, is that...

"Vinsamlegast, vinsamlegast hjálpaðu honum, hjálpaðu honum. Hjálpaðu mér, hjálp, hjálp…"

"Please, Thor, we can't understand a word you're saying..."

"WOAH, WOAH, BACK OFF, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!"

A ringing, rushing sound of air, and a... a presence- a-a- song? That sings like... 

flowers

and

The broad shape of a hand, unnaturally soft- it lingers on his face, on the side of his neck. He feels the curl of blunted claws.

A voice echoes and sings down his throat.

**Lokki.**

He should be afraid. Why is he...

**Loki, Friggason.**

What... what is...

**It's alright. You're alright. Don't be afraid.**

**Breathe.**

And he does. More of a litany of vague, stuttering gasps than anything, but still. Breathing.

**Good, good.**

**Would you open your eyes?**

No, no, he can't, not again, not this a-a-a-

**It'll be alright. Just open your eyes, just a little.**

**For me?**

It's like climbing out of a mountain's worth of snow, but climb he does.

He opens his eyes to find the great black diamonds that greet him.

"There you are, little prince," trills a strange voice of song. "I was hoping you'd be able to join us."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes, you _can_ correct my Icelandic.
> 
> (read: Please Correct My Icelandic, sincerely, a non-native speaker)


	9. The Head Of The Snake Is The Tail Of The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You cut off the puppet's head, it will still continue to dance.

* * *

Loki is removed from the equation like the last car of a train, quietly cut away from the engine.

A weight lifted, ultimately changing nothing. The train continues to move along the tracks. The world continues to spin.

The portal continues to build.

The Chitauri are coming.

The World Council has been informed, naturally. If they have any thoughts concerning the current _intervention_ the Gem Empire has begun, they say nothing. But there is a hardness in their eyes, certainly. A wariness that was not there before.

The director, grudgingly, shares his concern that Council may attempt something... drastic _._ The battle _must_ be ended as quickly as possible.

=<>=

Barton has to be persuaded not to kill Loki where he stands. _This is not your enemy, not really. The real enemy is coming soon._

=<>=

Doctor Stark has left the gathering to tend to his armor, and quietly puts out a company notice to evacuate Stark Tower.

=<>=

"I could send you along with the evacuation, if you like."

Banner raises his eyebrows. "You're not gonna put me on the field?"

"I do not ask my wards to fight on behalf of the Empire. You came into our care to be protected, not used."

"I..." Banner actually pauses at that. "...I... I suppose you're right."

"Doc." Steven sighs. " _Oliver_. You've spent a long time running from the fights people have tried to force you into. I'm not gonna add to that."

"And if I wanted to? If I wanted to fight?"

"We'll take every hand we can get. But we still have time. Use some of that time to think about if this is what you want. What _both_ of you want."

=<>=

He knows this gem. He knows this Gem, he thinks.

The odd, soft slant of her dark eyes. The tired, friendly ease of her song. That shade of pink in her hair, the hair that curled around her face like the crown of a...

"Rose." He could be wrong- who knows how even something so ageless and fae as a Gem could change in over six decades. But something seems so irrevocably _familiar_ about this one. "Are... are you... Rose Quartz?"

Her brows lift with surprise- less at his words, but more, somehow, at her own shock. And she laughs, almost, in a sort of sad way. This too, has not changed.

"Almost, Mr. Rogers." The way her song wraps around his name, both distant and fond, is untouched by time. "Almost."

=<>=

He thinks of war.

It is a familiar thought. (He wishes it wasn't.)

And a Diamond's brain plays the numbers game.

The evacuations have already been ordered. There may not be enough time for even that. The Sapphires aren't sure. His presence has _changed_ things, for better or worse, and while any scrying involving a Diamond's actions were always cloudy at best, his very existence was a great blindness to even the highest of clarities.

So the order may be futile. But on the stars, he has to try. Even if they can't clear them all, the stage of New York needs as few errant players as possible.

The shelters are already prepared. The databases made to tally every person they take. ~~Every person they will not be able to identify.~~ Rations set aside to feed every mouth in New York if they have to. The portal creates an almost comically small bottleneck, but there can be no carelessness, not yet. Even a single casualty is failure. (War itself is failure.)

He thinks of war.

The other Diamonds have been quietly, politely informed of the situation. _The Empire's authority on Earth is being contested by an outside party. Military measures are being implemented. More details when the matter is resolved._

It is neither pride nor distrust that he asks them not to interfere. The full force of the Empire numbers in the tens of trillions, and New York is _small_ \- so very small. They would win, but their battle would roll over the Earth, destroying it in their efforts to save it.

The Diamonds understand. They simply accept his truth as it stands- there is something almost like pride in their eyes as he gives his verdict not to intervene (not yet). They will respect his council, and wait for his word.

He thinks of war.

A Diamond's brain plays the number's game.

He thinks of resources. How many ships. How many shelters. (How much ichor will need to be spent. What will have to be done to those that they will be too late to save. He is not naïve. The stage of war will always court death despite his efforts, and to not prepare for it would be optimistic to the point of delusion.)

He thinks of what will have to be done afterwards when they have won, because they _will_ win. The Chitauri, they gather from what little sense can be made of Loki's fevered recollections, are drone creatures, lacking individual conscience. They will fear nothing, not even their deaths, and this will not work in their favor.

Lifetimes ago, he has courted war. He knows the importance of a soldier. A good soldier has something to die for, but the best soldier has something to _live_ for. And Gemkind has quite alot to live for, these days.

He runs a hand through Lion's mane. Lion is old, but he has never seen war.

Lion has refused to evacuate. He had dug his claws into the ground and summoned his armor, and that had been that. His happuri gleams silver and gold, the emblem of the star shining on his forehead. His mane is scattered with roses red and white, and bluebells. The saddlecloth he has chosen for himself is a patriotic weave of the Empire's colors, tasseled with diamonds. There is no eagerness, no anger, no fear on his face. His eyes are quiet determination.

A Diamond's brain plays the numbers game.

He plays at the stage of war. It's dress rehearsal now. He thinks of the cities, the streets. (He thinks of the places he has been to so many times before. He wonders how many of them will still exist tomorrow.)

He calls the Crystal Gems.

They are his family first, but they are his most trusted agents second. Predictions, calculations, leadership, coordination- he needs them all. (Jasper is there, quietly among them, and for that he is grateful.)

He calls his father.

He doesn't say not to worry. He's all grown now- they're past those kind of little lies they used to tell to themselves, to eachother. They talk about everything and nothing and maybe they even sing. They do not talk about what he's about to do. He won't burden anyone with what hasn't even happened yet. (He won't burden himself with it either. He just wanted to hear his dad's voice- just something to hold off the stage fright. Is that so bad?)

He calls his wife.

  
  
He cannot hide this, not from her. They were raised for war and they were raised together. He cannot fight this alone. (They both know, quietly, she would not forgive him for it a second time.)

His Gems are waiting for him.

He's out of time.

Steven Universe takes one last breath.

For the second time in three lifetimes, Asteria Diamond falls into the song of war.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever think about the fact that steven canonically fucks with garnet's future vision just by existing? they just put that out there And It Never Comes Up Again


	10. All The Worlds, A Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curtain call begins.

* * *

"Comm check, drones."

"Drone leader checking in," Peridot chirps. "Comm check drone team."

"Drone team checking in," calls out the response.

"Comm check, aerial."

"Aerial leader checking in," Lapis drawls. "Comm check aerial team."

"Comms and skies are clear," an Aquamarine responds.

"Comm check, changelings."

"Changeling queen checking in," Amethyst barks. "CHANGELING TEAM CHECK!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"Close enough!"

"Comm check, vehicles."

"Vehicles standing by," Pearl's song rings. "Vehicles, comm check."

"All vehicles operational and standing by."

"Comm check, ground team."

"Ground leader checking in," Bismuth clicks. "COMM CHECK!"

"CHECK!"

"Comm check, diviners."

"First diviner clear," Garnet drones. "Diviners, come in."

"Communications and calculations are at highest clarity."

"Comm check, Champion."

"Champion standing by," Jasper growls.

"Comm check, Knight."

"Sword at the ready," Connie calls.

"Comm check, all channels to evac."

"Evac leader, I hear you," calls a nervous Rose Quartz.

"All channels responding."

"We got you loud and clear, fam."

"...Comm check, all channels to Diamond Line."

"Clear."

"Standing by."

"At your service, My Diamond."

"Seein' and hearin' you loud and clear."

"Comm check, Diamond Line to Avengers channel. Are we bridged- repeat, are we bridged?"

"Rogers to Diamond Line, we are bridged."

"Black Widow to Diamond Line, line is clear."

"Hawkeye hears you loud and clear."

"Uh, Prof on the line, we are bridged."

"Iron Man to Diamond Line, bridge is stable. Try to keep your passive electric fuckery at a minimum, Stardust, we wanna keep the lines as clear as possible for the little guys."

"I'll try, doc. I'll try."

"Diviner to Diamond Line. It's almost time."

"..."

"Steven?"

"...You heard her, y'all. It's curtain call. Any last words before the band starts playing?"

The lines are silent.

A few Gems share one last kiss.

Others bless themselves with the sign of the diamond- a quick, lighting strike motion zig-zagging over their face, their shoulders, their chest.

Pearl bares her flexed fangs, lifts her head and sings.

An old song, a warsong. A high, mournful cry- pianos and the strike of swords echo against the sky.

Bismuth bares her fangs and sings the ring of metal and watered glass.

Garnet's drone rises.

Amethyst's hiss drums on.

One by one, higher and higher their warsong climbs, a chorus of gem and human song, until a Diamond's rising orchestra conducts their wordless choir and pierces the empty sky.

And the sky- the sky finally breaks.

The stage is set.

The final players have arrived.

Curtain call ends.

The dance begins.

* * *


	11. The Battle Of The Bottleneck, Scene I- Flight Of The Vakyries

* * *

Manhattan plunges into silence.

There is no sound, when the sky breaks.

There is no sound, when the Chitauri fall from the bottleneck, strange and halting like divers breaking the surface of water.

The sound begins when the birds come.

Birds- birds, but not really. _Bird_ in the loosest, barest essence of the word.

Gems distorting themselves like catapults and launching into the air, their bodies growing pointed like arrows, like spears, like kites. Strange parodies of flight and flesh and talon and bone, a shrieking, singing litany of savagery- these are the birds that first greet the Chitauri.

They are eagles. They are swans and parrots.

They are old birds forgotten by ages past.

They are old shapes of flying lizards only remembered now by bones.

They are feathers and bat's wings and dragons made real.

Shapes like angels- _true_ angels, old angels, like sermons of fire and brimstone that haunted a younger Steve Rogers in the echoed rickety walls of an Irish Catholic church. Flashing lights, wheels and wings and innumerable eyes. Their prismatic bodies are the flaming sword that cuts the throat of Chitauri chariots, and bodies rain from the sky.

Right alongside Barton's altitude of the skyscraper roofs, tall shapes with too many arms draw great longbows taller than men, firing arrows that warp into the shape of graceful dancers, arms outstretched in fatal embrace.

"Damn," Barton mutters. "I gotta get me some of those."

One gem smiles down at him and pulls more arrows from out of her forehead.

Barton takes one into his hands, feeling the strange, volatile song that buzzes into his arms, and his unsteady laugh is just this side of vengeance.

* * *


	12. The Battle Of The Bottleneck, Scene II- What It Takes To Feed An Army

* * *

"Sir, we will lose power before we penetrate that shell."

"You got me there JARVIS," Tony sighs, shutting down his laser. "Hold up, I'm being waved down."

It's sturdy burly Gem that waves him down, with golden eyes and curling green horns. "Armored one."

"That's me."

She nods up at the Leviathan. "You can kill it?"

"If I could get through the shell, yeah."

She hums consideringly, then whistles sharply.

Other Gems practically sprout out of the rubble to turn to her, and she points at the hulking, flying shape with a sharp roll of hissing clicks.

The group nods to themselves and leaps into the sky with ricocheted leaps against buildings and harsh manifestations of wings.

Tony starts up his repulsors again. May as well see what they have in mind.

He has to give a few of them a helping toss, but they all make it right up to the side of the thing.

This is the part where Tony Stark remembers that Gems have claws.

This is the part where Tony Stark can only watch shocked while these colorful mirage parodies of human beings flex their daggered hands into blood and bone with all the brutal precision of butchers, bone and wire chipping away like old china.

This is the part where Tony Stark remembers that Gems have fangs.

This is the part where Tony Stark almost falls out of the sky when the biggest one, the one with the curling horns and golden eyes- her teeth _flex_ forward like claws and tear down with all the loving tenderness of a bear trap.

Try not to imagine it.

Try not to imagine the jaw strength it takes to make bones break. Try not to imagine the fatty, languid spill of marrow when they do.

Try not to imagine the slick of alien blood that stains unyielding teeth like mother-of-pearl.

Try not to imagine the vagueries of iron and oil rendered visceral war paint across Gem faces- the animal shine dripping off their lips, echoed uncanny in the reflected glow of their inhuman eyes, the light bouncing off them from repulsor fire.

Wires sparking and bleeding and bubbling like arterial veins.

Metal torn and warped with ragged gouges.

Muscle and skin and ligament torn to wet ribbon flags on the wind.

Tony Stark takes fire.

Try not to imagine what the flashburn of alien flesh smells like. It smells the way a human's would- leathered and coppery and sickly sweet, altered by the gluey bitterness of keratin and the implacable salinity of cerebrospinal fluids.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka The Exact Scene That Prompted The _Graphic Depictions Of Violence_ Warning


	13. The Battle Of The Bottleneck, Scene III- The Dragon Becomes Me

* * *

A stray blast knocks her sword out of her hand. It flies over their heads, too far out of her reach.

She's surrounded.

But not dead yet.

She reaches down to her belt and pours a line of firesalt on her tongue.

She doesn't bite down the scream of pain. She lets it fly from the molten cage of her mouth and fuel like rage the hiss of fire that burns out of her throat, a solar flare made miniature that eats the Chitauri soldiers down to their bones.

Connie Maheswaran, First Knight of Asteria Diamond's court, swallows the blood on her torn mouth and picks up her fallen sword.

Her ragged battle cry rains black iron.

* * *


	14. The Battle Of The Bottleneck, Scene IV- Kneel.

* * *

_They are only puppets._

_They are only puppets._

He tells himself that thought, and pretends it brings him comfort.

He sees the Leviathan. He hears the song of its mind, and every soldier inside it.

Steven Universe takes one last breath.

_They are only puppets._

**_And puppets have strings._ **

Asteria Diamond raises his shaking hand like benediction, takes the Leviathian's strings, and whispers

**F A L L.**

* * *


	15. The Battle Of The Bottleneck, Intermission

* * *

Lesson one- aliens are real.

Lesson two- there's more than one kind of aliens.

One kind is the reason they won't stop hearing the screams.

The other kind is holding the rubble of thirteen floors over their heads.

"Are you guys okay?" Her shy, sing-song voice whispers.

"My leg hurts," Lily cries. 

Sean looks down at his daughter and bites back a curse. That can't be anything but the bruise of a broken bone. _And that's just the one they can see._

Fuck.

Fuck fuck FUCK FUCK.

He didn't school his face down enough- Lily catches something there and silent tears fall.

Anne, bless her, she still tries to comfort their girl, even as her medicine withdrawal starts to set in like a weariness in her eyes that won't ever go away.

And the lady- the lady looks confused. Concerned, but confused. He can't be mad at her- he can't expect a fae creature of her like to understand simple mortal pains.

"You'll be okay," she tries to reassure anyway. "When we get out, we can ask my Diamond to heal her. It'll be good as new." There's an awkward smile on her soft face. "I'll carry you, even. How does that sound?"

The prospect of being carried by a giant, soft lady cheers Lily up a little, at least, and she nods.

"Least we got air," Sean mutters, looking up at the tiny sliver of light bearing down on them. It's a cruel bit of hope. They can't reach for it without risking the collapse of everything on top of them.

The lady's tall, broad body is still like a statue, light shining down on the stone in her belly. Her eyes follow his own at the gap in the rubble.

"We'll be stuck here for a while," she sighs, resigned.

"And I'm supposin' we can't call for help until the battle dies down?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, uh," he scratches at his head, flashlight bopping awkwardly on the wrecked wall behind him. "Might as well introduce ourselves. 'm Sean. My wife, Anne-" she raises her head and waves tiredly, "-and our girl Lily."

"Rose," the lady's shy, singing voice whispers. "I am Rose Quartz. Why don't you tell me about yourselves? Something to pass the time until we get out."

_Until we get out._

_When we get out._

_When._

Outside, the screams never stop.

"I... I have this favorite bench in Central Park," he finally whispers.

"What's Central Park?"

"It's the most famous place in New York..."

* * *


	16. The Battle Of The Bottleneck, Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no beat, no melody.

* * *

Death is not peace.

Death is not fear.

Death is not 14 years old, passed out drunk and drugged at a college party while his ~~best~~ only friend tries to wake him up.

Death is not burying his mother at 21.

Death is not shards of metal forever pointed at his heart, from a missile painted _STARK_.

Death is not the trace remnants of palladium in his bloodstream that could still kill him even now.

Death.

Death is

cold.

Death is cold.

Cold beyond cold, beyond the most frozen winters. (Beyond the winter that killed his mother.)

Pepper's contact photo sputters and dies.

JARVIS is gone.

It does not burn, as cold should. He's beyond even that now.

No, this cold soaks his suit and stains his bones until they're as black as the space around him.

He is cold, and alone.

He sees an imposing blackness half hidden against the stars, the white shape of a missile floating inevitably towards it, and distantly wonders if he should find it beautiful.

Tony Stark takes one last breath in an iron sarcophagus he built with his own two hands, choked and cold and desperately, entirely alone. He closes his eyes.

And he falls.

* * *


	17. The Battle Of The Bottleneck, Scene VII- The Swan Dive

* * *

Stark falls out the bottleneck right as it closes.

Hysterical relief floods the onlookers.

But not everyone.

"He's not slowing down," Thor realizes.

_"Shit,_ " Banner swears under his breath. "Is his suit even online?"

"Diamond Line to Iron Man," Asteria Diamond whispers. "Diamond Line to Iron Man, _you are losing altitude._ "

The line stays silent.

Iron Man continues to fall.

Thor starts to twirl his hammer.

But the Diamond is already gone.

A flash of pink clips into the sky, trailing like a comet, crashing into the impossibly fragile shape falling there.

And time slows down. Or rather, _they_ do.

Diamond and iron sink like dead on the water, stars falling in slow motion.

Petals trail around them as white boots just barely skirt the ground and land, weightless. Their eyes shine such an eerie bright it skirts on crimson, diamond pupils rendered alien crosshairs.

Asteria Diamond sinks down to their knees and drops a battered suit of armor on the ground.

* * *


	18. The Battle Of The Bottleneck, Curtain Call

* * *

An army that cannot retreat, cannot reason.

A battle where violence truly is the only answer.

For the first time in history, there are living witnesses to Gem warfare.

The galaxies slowly begin to whisper of an eldritch army of light dancers, nightmarish shifting forms that ate an army alive to a litany of screaming song.

=<>=

There are things that go viral after the Battle of New York.

The sky that breaks.

Captain America, directing the NYPD.

A human woman with a sword, smoke and black iron spilling out her throat as she screams like dragons made real.

Iron Man flying a nuclear missile into a cosmic bottleneck.

A rare picture of Asteria Diamond. He stands before a Leviathan warship, dead by his own hand. He rests his head for a moment on its own, and mourns.

=<>=

If anyone was counting, he must have had one of the biggest kill counts that day.

But no one was counting. He's glad for it. (He would not be able to stand it, if they did.)

There's a shwarma joint, miraculously open, and they have late lunch with mechanical movements and shell shocked eyes.

Thor claps him on the back, glad to see his power in battle. _We should spar again after this is all over_ , the prince probably says. He probably nods in return with some vague agreement- he doesn't remember much of what he'd done that day.

Connie goes back to school. The college has probably evacuated, but she still needs to check in, or at least pack her things for the summer if the semester can't re-open by then. His squint is high in a closed smile just too wide, but it can't be helped. One last kiss- for luck, for love, for stitching back the tears of fire on her throat.

And she is gone.

There's a Bismuth, not his, a forgotten stretch of song sliding past him with tallied property damage.

A Zircon talks to him about the upcoming trial, the impending arrival of the other Diamonds.

Steven looks out at the ruined streets, littered with the empty shells of a defeated army, his gem singing with some foreign, incredible sadness.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the battle, but not the war.
> 
> We'll be seeing you again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos, comments, critique, and the despaired screeches of the eternally damned are equally welcome.  
> Join the Discord server for draft bits, behind the scenes nonsense, yearning questions of my questionable literary choices, and future stories.  
> https://discord.gg/xdhnqKj
> 
> This series now has a dedicated written timeline for the curious in the series companion guide, which is the last "fic" listed in the series page.


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